What If?
by 2wingo
Summary: AU What if Jackpot hadn't died? DISCLAIMER: I do not own Spider-Man.


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**(A/N: A commissioned work by a friend of mine from DeviantART. Please Read & Review.)**

_In the aftermath of the Civil War and Aunt May's life-threatening injury, Spider-Man made a deal with Mephisto, the supreme demon in the Marvel Universe, to save her life. He would make it so that he and Mary Jane Watson would never have married, and in exchange, Aunt May would be saved. Unknown to Peter, MJ made a secret deal with Mephisto to remove Spider-Man's memory of their marriage and make it so that Spider-Man's identity was never revealed._

_The bargain thus struck, Peter found his life reset. He is still living with his Aunt May, and he and Mary Jane were never a real item. The last time he saw her was at a party for Harry Osborne, who was never the Green Goblin, only noticing her when she left the room, almost in tears . . ._

_He later teamed up with a new superhero, a woman who called herself Jackpot, and for a time suspected her to really be Mary Jane, though she denied this and insisted that her name was Sara Ehret._

_It was soon discovered that this was a lie. Her real name was Alana Jobson, a human who habitually used Mutant Growth Hormone to grant her the powers of the real Sara Ehret, an unregistered superhuman and close friend of Jobson. Jackpot died in a battle against the villains Blindside and Commandra. Spidey visited Ehret and reminded her that with great power came great responsibility, and that being Jackpot wasn't something she could just walk away from._

_HOWEVER . . . _

_What if Alana Jobson didn't really die? What if Sara Ehret knew this? What if it was all connected to Mary Jane's pact with Mephisto?_

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Jackpot's POV

Why did I do this? Why did I start taking a drug that made me a mutant? Why did I buy my friend's identity and start doing superhero work with Spider-Man? Well, the truth is, I didn't really have a choice. No, I guess I did, but I made it and stuck by it. I mean, what girl WOULDN'T what a chance to go with Spider-Man? That sexy mysteriousness, that rock-hard body, and that razor-sharp wit –

Whoa, time-out for a sec . . . Okay, sorry to let my hormones get away from me. The point is, I always admired Spider-Man and wanted to be like him. A hero, I mean. I couldn't because I didn't have powers. It didn't really help when Sara developed powers, and our friendship took a huge blow when I found out that she wasn't going to even use them.

Don't get me wrong, the Superhuman Registration Act is unfair and all, but Sara turned down the chance to be a real, government-sponsored superhero! A chance that I'd been waiting for my whole life!

So I went down to Harlem late one night, and finally found a guy who was peddling MGH, the stuff that gave mutants their powers. That stuff was expensive, but it would be worth it. The first time I took it, I didn't think that it worked. But that changed when I dropped my cellphone down a storm drain. I was so angry, I punch a nearby telephone poll. And you know what? It friggin' dented under my punch! Not very dramatically, but it certainly took more out of the poll than it did out of my fist.

I ran straight to Sara's to tell her, but she wasn't happy. Too many people knew that Alana Jobson was a human, and MGH was WAY illegal. So what was the obvious thing to do? Stop being Alana Jobson, of course. Sara, seeing how determined I was, sold me her identity so I could register as a Superhuman.

I decided that I wanted a really funky look, so I decided on a disco-era look. Green jumpsuit with bell bottoms, gold cuffs, a silver stripe running down the front, and a gold mask that covered my eyes, the sides of my face, and wrapped around the back of my head. It was a pretty good look, but I still didn't have a _nom de guerre_. But that changed when I was watching a soap opera with that famous actress, Mary Jane Watson, and she said the coolest line: "Face it, Tiger . . . you just hit the jackpot." So I added a belt with the insignia "777" on it (the winning numbers on a slot machine). I bought a police scanner the next morning, and Jackpot was born!

A week or two into the superhero gig, I met Spider-Man. God, he was SCRUMPTIOUS. Because I took to calling him "Tiger," he actually thought that I was Mary Jane Watson, for a while. Stupid, huh?

Anyway, we eventually teamed up to go after a supervillain called Menace, who was going to attack a city council meeting. I made my first big mistake while we were fighting Menace. I got between him and Spider-Man, and his glider shot out of control and . . . killed a councilwoman. He was good enough to try and comfort me, but I told him where to stick it and ran off.

I spent the next couple of days in a sort of . . . dream-state. I showered again and again, trying to wash off the guilt and the blood on my hands.

It only got worse. This asshole named Dexter Bennett got the Daily Bugle to print a whole bunch of crap about me, most of which was pure lies (there was SOME truth the story that I break up a DEA drug bust, but it was an accident). Luckily, the government sent me a PR agent to straighten things out (the first major perk to being government-sponsored).

Of course, nothing is ever that easy. We go over there to fix the problem, and the Skrull Empire attacks the Bugle! This really mean one is trying to find Spidey, and since I won't tell, he transforms into the ENTIRE Sinister Six, all at once! And to make matters worse, Menace decides to rear his ugly head!

Long story short, Menace hurts Betty Brant, flies away, and the Skrull dies when I lock him in a freezer.

Eventually (I still don't know how), Spider-Man finds out that I'm really Alana Jobson, and that I'm an MGH addict. He doesn't really call me on it until we're fighting some new baddies, Blindside and Commandra, and Blindside poisons me. The toxin, coupled with the Mutant Growth Hormone in my blood, kills me.

The weird thing about death, however, is that it's not always permanent. I wake up in the morgue during after hours, and no one knows that I'm alive. It's on all the news stations, with reporters saying something to the effect of "Spider-Man's girlfriend is dead."

Now, I'm not sure of how to proceed. I can never go back to the life I had without massive complications. All of my enemies think I'm dead, the government no longer can track me, and I'm free to come up with any identity I want. But I'm hurting Spider-Man. Well, in time, I hope that he can come to forgive me. Goodbye, Tiger. It's been a blast.

* * *

Sara Ehret's POV

I never wanted this. I never wanted to be a mutant. I never wanted my best friend to die and nobody even knows that it was her.

But now I'm starting to see that I don't have a choice. Spider-Man told me about power and responsibility. A responsibility that comes with having power.

Oh my God, Alana isn't dead. I'm both relieved and freaked out, right now. She just came into my apartment, not ten minutes ago, and told me that she was still alive. She doesn't know how, or why, or even if it's permanent, but one thing is for sure: She can't be Jackpot anymore.

She asked me to continue being Jackpot. Spider-Man would know about me (of course, he wouldn't know that Alana is still alive). The government? Well, I could always tell them that I was just in a coma. But what about Alana? Now that she's a blank slate, what will she do? If she wants to keep being a superhero, she'll money and supplies, and I'm not in a position to provide those for her, anymore. And what happens if she runs out of MGH? The withdrawal could kill her!

But she told me that she knows all this. And she told me not to worry. She'll be fine, and all I need to worry about is my future as Jackpot.

This is one of those days that I wish that I had been one of the mutants who lost my powers during M-Day, when the Avengers were reorganized. If only I were a regular human, and I didn't have to deal with all this!

But maybe Spider-Man's right. If he and Alana could make the whole superhuman thing work, why couldn't I? Who knows? Maybe I've had the wrong opinion of superheroes my whole life. Of course, I can never tell him the truth about Alana, but why couldn't I care on in her stead as Jackpot?

Do I have a responsibility to do good, just because I have powers? Maybe. Just maybe . . .

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Mary Jane's POV

Why? Why can't Peter and I ever be truly happy? Why did I have to fear that I'd be a widow every time he left to be Spider-Man? Why did our baby have to die? Why did I have to endure being separated from him? Why did Morlun take him away from me, only for Peter to return to life? Why? Dear God in Heaven, WHY?!

Don't get me wrong, there's been so much good to being with Peter Parker, and I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. I love Peter, which is why I came back to him. And I love Aunt May, which is why I agreed to sacrifice my marriage to the devil to save her. And I love Spider-Man, Peter's alter-ego, which is why I sold my soul to have his secret stay a secret.

Life isn't always fair. Fine, I understand that, and I can accept it. But I never knew that it could be so CRUEL!

Nor did I know that Mephisto could be so cruel. He creates two girls, TWO, to be almost carbon copies of me, and puts them into Peter's life so he can take them away from him!

And, and I can't do a thing about it. When I sold my soul to Mephisto, I became his familiar. Now, I have to serve him for the rest of eternity. And stand by and watch the man I love suffer.

_There is a method to my madness, dear Mary Jane_, he said to me one night, cupping my chin so I had to look in his awful yellow eyes, _You shall see why your beloved Peter walks through so much Hell for no apparent reason._

And he did show me. He showed me images so powerful that my mortal tongue cannot relate them. All I can say is this: Ever since the Silver Surfer died, his noble soul has forever been beyond Mephisto's reach. But Mephisto craves the Silver Surfer's soul above all others, and he'll do anything to get it. I still don't see the connection between Spider-Man and the Silver Surfer, but the connection exists.

And now here I am, living in my gaudy, 5th Avenue apartment with a man I don't love, but I have to whisper kind words to every single night before I go to sleep. The only thing that keeps me sane is seeing Peter, webswinging across the city at all hours of the day, knowing that he's doing good.

Peter, I love you so much. I know I can't say it or let you know it in any way, but I do. And I know you love me back, even if you find your way back into the arms of that tramp, Jackpot. Mephisto may have blanked your mind, but he couldn't blank your heart. And I know that someday, somehow, we WILL see each other again . . .

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**_(A/N: Not bad considering that I've never actually read "One More Day," "Brand New Day," or "Secret Invasion" where all of this takes place. Please Review.)_**

FIN.


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